


What Did I Miss

by TonightShadeRed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Hamilsquad, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonightShadeRed/pseuds/TonightShadeRed
Summary: When James wakes up in a mental hospital, without any memories except his name and a sense of wrongness, he has to figure out what's going on and why he's there. He doesn't know how he got there, in a place he doesn't remember with people he used to know.Well. People he remembers, but they don't seem to remember him. Memory can be a tricky thing, and he doesn't know how to explain to them that he's their friend, their ally - because he doesn't know why himself.But James doesn't realize how much he doesn't remember until it's too late.Two hundred years too late.





	1. All I Have's My Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with another story when I should be doing my homework or updating my other fics - oh well!

He sat in a room without sound, without light, without any semblance of life except for himself. He gazed into the darkness, his mind buzzing numbly and his limp arms resting on his legs.

 

He was pretty sure he had somewhere to be.

 

He had to go home. Or did he have to write something? Maybe he had to debate with Hamilton over financial - Hamilton? Who-

 

The thought was gone, and the static returned to his mind, destroying any stray thoughts that dared to approach. It left him empty, just as the static always had.

 

He was supposed to be somewhere right now.

 

“You’re looking a little lost there, friend,” a voice spoke, cutting through the static. He frowned; this wasn't supposed to happen. He had been alone for so long, in the darkness waiting for - for something. For someone?

 

“I can help you out,” the voice said again. “Hey, look at me, dumbass.”

 

He slowly turned his head to the right, his eyes landing on gleaming shoe buckles. He raised his eyes, following the purple felt clothing up to a smirking face. They had dark skin and hair that bounced as they tilted their head to look down at him. They grinned, and he briefly thought of how radiant the smile made their face look.

 

“Hey, Jemmy,” They chuckled. “You're a little late to the party.”

 

“J-Jemmy?” He croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse. “Is that my name?”

 

They frowned. “You don't remember your name?”

 

“I don't know,” he said. He looked down at his hands, turning the palms to face him. “Maybe. I - I think I might.”

 

“Even I know my name,” They said. “But maybe that's why you're still here. They don't know if they can control you like this, because you have no memories to control.”

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“So, you going to remember, or am I going to have to sit in this dreadful abyss as long as I want to talk to you?” They kneeled in front of him, and his breath hitched.

 

“I have to go,” he said. “I have to be somewhere.”

 

“Really?” They smiled softly. “Where, Jemmy?”

 

“I-” his eyebrows creased. “Do you have to be somewhere?”

 

“Nah,” They waved a hand noncommittally. “Lafayette’s got the lead right now. Plus, if I decide to steer the ol’ wagon, I basically forget everything. It fucking sucks.”

 

“What?” He asked again, helplessly confused. They laughed.

 

“Don't worry about it. So?”

 

“Who am I?” He muttered, dropping his gaze. They reached up and tilted his chin so he stared into their eyes.

 

“You can remember,” They whispered. “Come on.”

 

The name blew into his head like a truck, colliding head-on with his thoughts. He choked as the name took over everything, giving him identity and a reason. A reason for what, he wasn't sure, but that wasn't important at the moment. All that mattered was-

 

“James,” He gasped. “My name is James.”

 

“Good,” They whispered, their voice starting to fade. “Remember that.”

 

“Don't go,” James cried. “Come back, please!”

 

“Don't worry, Jemmy,” They said. “I'll see you on the other side.”

 

Everything turned to gray, then a blinding white, and James took a shuddering breath, sucking in air for the first time that he could remember. Something pressed against his back, and James arched up into a sitting position. There were hands on him, and he fought them, but they pushed him back down.

 

“He's awake!” a voice called - not his voice, or the voice he knew, but someone else’s. “Hey, calm down, it's alright.”

 

James stopped fighting, allowing himself to be held down, and his eyes finally registering his surroundings. He was in a concrete room, the lights glaring down at him painfully, and he was laying on a thin bed in the middle of the room.

 

“Wow, I don't think anyone expected you to actually wake up,” the new voice spoke again.

 

James glanced at him, and his heart jumped as he realized he knew this person. Alexander Hamilton stared down at him, a friendly smile plastered across his face as he started talking, but the words were distant in James’s ears.

 

He knew Hamilton. He knew Hamilton, but… how?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment and/or leave kudos below, thanks!


	2. I'll See You On The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James doesn't remember. He almost does, but it all keeps slipping away before he can make any sense of it.
> 
> He has history with these people, he's sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I'm posting this early because I need something to get my mind off of the shitty day I've been having. Anyway, here's another chapter, hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Also, I have no idea how psychiatric wards work so don't expect any realism for that kind of thing.
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: Ableist slurs

James was going to be sick.

 

The revelation wasn't surprising; it was a common feeling for him. It was? Was he just sick all the time?

 

He couldn't remember.

 

That was what was causing his pounding headache, he surmised. That, plus the force at which Hamilton was talking to him, his words passing through his mouth so fast that there was no time for even Hamilton to process it.

 

James felt a twinge of disdain as Hamilton grinned at him. Was he the man who had talked to him? No. He didn't look anything like him, not to mention, he liked the man who had helped him.

 

Oh. He didn't like Hamilton. Why?

 

James nodded at Hamilton anyway, offering him a strained smile. If he didn't remember why he didn't like Hamilton, there was no harm in trying to make his acquaintance. Keep your friends close and your (apparent) enemies closer.

 

“So, where are we?” James interrupted. Hamilton paused, then gave James a strange look.

 

“I just explained that,” Hamilton said. “And the history, and all that - were you even listening?”

 

“Sorry,” James shrugged. “I'm a little confused. I just woke up, and-”

 

“Oh, of course,” Hamilton said. “We're at the Revolutionary State Hospital. It's a psych ward.”

 

James stopped walking. “I'm not crazy.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Hamilton scoffed. “We all are. It's fine, no one judges here. Anyway, let's get to the main rooms so you can meet some people.”

 

“Where are we now, then?”

 

“This is where they fill people with drugs,” Hamilton said. “You were here because you've been in a coma for, like, as long as I can remember.”

 

“What were you doing in my room?” James asked, and Hamilton fidgeted uncomfortably.

 

“Um,” Hamilton laughed nervously. “I read to you when I can. It's just something that relaxes me, I guess, and God knows I need it.”

 

James couldn't help but smile. “That's sweet. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah,” Hamilton said, then coughed. “Anyway, there's been studies about reading to coma patients, and-”

 

Hamilton launched into another speech, gesticulating wildly with his hands. James tuned it out almost by second nature, glancing around the hall. There were a few nurses and doctors walking through the hall, some of them waving at Hamilton, who waved back.

 

Eventually they reached the end of the hallway, and Hamilton pushed open a door to reveal a homey-looking living area. There were couches spread everywhere, as well as tables where a few patients were playing chess. A group of them looked up as Hamilton entered, calling to him. He grabbed James’s hand and pulled him over to them.

 

“Hey guys,” Hamilton said. “This is James.”

 

“The coma patient, right?” a man with a beanie asked, looking James over. James nodded, and he extended his hand. “Hercules, at your service.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” James said. He didn't recognise Hercules at all, but he seemed to be good friends with Hamilton. Hercules tilted his head like he was listening to something, his eyes still on James, and he laughed lightly, nodding in agreement to something.

 

“Don't worry about Herc,” Hamilton said. “He hears people that aren't there.”

 

“Hey,” Hercules said. “You’re hurting Gilbert’s feelings.”

 

“Who’s the new kid?” Someone clapped him on the back, and he turned to see a man with freckles grinning behind him.

 

“This is James,” Hamilton said. “James, this is John.”

 

James glanced between John and Hamilton, noticing the way the two shyly looked at each other, but decided not to comment. Instead, he turned and offered John a smile.

 

“I'm Aaron,” someone called from the other side of John. James glanced around John to see a face he definitely knew.

 

Aaron Burr. James couldn't help but laugh a little at how comfortable Hamilton and Burr seemed to be around each other, despite-

 

The thought slipped away before James could fully grab it, leaving James frustrated as yet another piece of the puzzle left his grasp. He shook Burr’s hand anyway, mulling over the lost thought.

 

He has history with these people, he's sure of it. He just doesn't know how.

 

“There’s Lafayette too, but right now they're not at home,” Hamilton said, rapping his knuckles against his temple. “Instead, it's that fuckwad.” He turned and yelled across the room, “Hey, jackass! When the French side of you comes home, tell them to get their ass over here!”

 

The man Hamilton was yelling at flipped him off, a sour expression on his face, and James’s heart stopped as he realized who it was.

 

It was Thomas; the man who had spoken to him before he remembered, his best friend, his closest ally. James’s stomach twinged, and he had to admit that maybe Thomas was a little more to him than his friend.

 

Which brought up the question: were they dating? Had they been dating and broken it off? Were they more committed, or had James just pined after Thomas?

 

Jesus, his head hurt. Everything was so complicated.

 

“Hey, James, you alright?” Hamilton asked.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” James managed. “I'm going to go talk to him.”

 

“Your funeral,” John scoffed.

 

James waved him away, then approached Thomas carefully, who was wearing plain jeans and a French t-shirt. Thomas sized him up as he walked towards him, looking unimpressed.

 

“Haven't seen you around here,” Thomas said, and James’s heart dropped into his stomach.

 

“I'm James,” James said, desperately hoping Thomas would remember their conversation. Instead, Thomas just nodded.

 

“Thomas,” he said. “What're you doing hanging out with them?” He jerked his chin at Hamilton’s group.

 

“I just woke up here,” James said, watching Thomas for any reaction, but he didn't move. “Hamilton was showing me around.”

 

“Hamilton?” Thomas asked. “Who the fuck is that?”

 

“Uh, Alex,” James said. Thomas eyed him, then laughed incredulously.

 

“Alex Hamilton? Like the Founding Father?” Thomas scoffed. “Don’t tell him that, the last thing he needs is a boost to his already over inflated ego.”

 

James had to wonder if the reason James didn’t like Hamilton was because of his own opinions, or Thomas’s. Probably a little bit of both, but James had to admit they could work together. Like when they wrote the-

 

Damn. Gone again.

 

“I know, thanks!” Thomas suddenly shouted in the direction of Hercules, who just looked tired. Hercules gave Thomas a look of  _ what can you do? _ He turned back to Hamilton’s group, smirking slightly.

 

“Tell me it’s you in there, Thomas, before I rip your head off!” A female voice called from across the room. Thomas flinched, giving James an apologetic look, before facing the angry woman who was storming straight for him. She was followed by a shy girl wearing a red sweater, whose eyes darted to James then back to Thomas.

 

“Angelica,” Thomas said. “What did I do now?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Angelica snapped, her eyes stormy. “You called Peggy a two-faced bitch!”

 

“Who told you that?” Thomas asked, baffled.

 

“Peggy!” Angelica was practically screaming now. “And that’s rich, coming from you, you two-faced dick!”

 

“Maria, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Thomas turned to the woman in red, who quickly looked at the floor. “She started it.”

 

“Oh, I’m going to start something now,” Angelica warned. “You are a pompous-”

 

She cut off suddenly as she noticed James. “Who are you?”

 

“I’m James,” James said, his voice small. “Uh, nice to meet you?”

 

Angelica’s eyes flicked from Thomas to James, and she let out a laugh. “Oh, you’re James. Well, I hope you’re good for Thomas. He needs someone to teach him some manners.”

 

James balked, his cheeks heating up. “Do I know you?”

 

“No,” Angelica said, amusement in her eyes, the argument momentarily forgotten. “Word travels fast around here. Now you, mister-”

 

“Pardon me, Angelica,” Thomas said, suddenly with a French accent. “But I am not the pompous dick you wish to yell at.”

 

Angelica groaned. “Just like that coward to hide when things get rough.” She turned in a circle, raising her voice. “We aren’t done here, fucker!”

 

She stomped out of the room, Maria by her side, and James slowly faced Thomas. Thomas was putting his hair into a high ponytail, humming a tune to himself. He smiled warmly at James, a different light in his eyes as he studied him.

 

“Ah, you must be the famous James I have heard so much about?” Thomas asked, the French accent heavy in his voice. “Nice to meet you. I am Lafayette.”

 

“What?” James asked, confused more by the minute. “You’re not… Thomas?”

 

“No,” Lafayette said, smiling brightly. “I have, how you say… Dissociative Identity Disorder. Different personalities in one body. You have met Thomas. Now you are meeting me.”

 

“Oh,” James said, at a loss for words. “Okay.”

 

“Lafayette!” Hercules called, waving him over. Lafayette offered James another smile before they bounced over to Hercules, sitting on his lap. Despite Lafayette’s assurances they were someone else, James felt his heart sink.

 

“Aw, jealous, are we?”

 

James whirled around to find Thomas sitting on the couch, a shit-eating grin evident on his face. He was wearing the purple felt suit James had seen him in before.

 

“What - how-” James started. He glanced over his shoulder to see Lafayette give Hercules a peck on the cheek.

 

“Miss me, Jemmy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm listening to Hamilton while posting this. Why is Okieriete Onaodowan's voice so beautiful I'm crying


	3. Headfirst Into The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is giving James a headache. But he also seems to be helping. Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter in only three days! Holy shit! I'm writing this story like crazy and I just can't wait to get it up, so here's another chapter.
> 
> Also, I would like to point out that, without spoiling too much, that Thomas and Laf's case of DID is... unconventional, so it may not have the symptoms or such as regular DID. I'm trying to write these disorders as realistically as possible, but sometimes things need to be tweaked to fit with the story.
> 
> Another warning for ableist slurs this chapter as well.

“Your body’s over there,” James gasped. “But you’re over here. Oh my god, I’ve gone insane.”

 

“Probably true,” Thomas conceded. “You’re seeing dead people - everywhere!”

 

James stared at him, and Thomas raised his eyebrows. “Come on. Sixth Sense, anyone?” He shouted, looking around the room, but no one responded.

 

“Dead people?” James asked, earning a few strange looks from the others close enough to hear him.

 

“Yeah, Jemmy,” Thomas grinned. “Don't you know? I've been dead for, oh, two hundred years.”

 

“But I just saw you,” James said, glancing at Lafayette. “Or whatever.”

 

Thomas waved his hand. “Alright, Jemmy, I'm going to be frank with you. I don't  _ really  _ exist.”

 

“I-” James started.

 

“I'm just your head trying to make sense of everything,” Thomas said. “I'm flattered you chose this outfit, though. I always did look good in purple.”

 

“Why are you dead?” James asked. “If the real Thomas is here, then who are you?”

 

“That idiot?” Thomas snorted. “He - Or I - don't remember anything. Everything’s gone. Poof.”

 

“You're not real.”

 

“Jemmy,” Thomas said softly. “I helped you out of that coma of yours, didn't I? I deserve to at least be  _ listened  _ to.”

 

“Alright,” James snapped. “What the hell, right?”

 

“That's the spirit!” Thomas grinned. “Or maybe I'm the spirit. I'm not really sure.”

 

“Stop,” James said. His head hurt. “Just tell me what you meant when you said you're dead.”

 

“Jemmy, I'm hurt.” Thomas put a hand over his heart. “You don't remember? I'm Thomas Jefferson, baby!”

 

James thought back to Thomas -  the real Thomas - and how he had scoffed when James mentioned Hamilton’s last name. Was he actually considering that these people in here were from the past? The Founding Fathers?

 

“Okay,” James said. “I have Thomas Jefferson wandering around in my head. That’s fine. Perfectly sane.”

 

“Do you remember that one time we totally wrecked Hamilton in that cabinet meeting?” Jefferson asked. “Good times.”

 

“Pretty sure he wrecked us,” James answered, rolling his eyes. Jefferson sat up, grinning at James.

 

“You remember?” Thomas asked hopefully.

 

James frowned. Of course he remembered arguing with Hamilton over - over - Shit, it couldn't go away, not like this, he was so close to remembering-

 

“Were you saying something?” James asked, and Jefferson’s face fell. The conversation had felt important, but he couldn't put his finger on what it had been about.

 

“Hey, James!” Hamilton called, motioning him over. James turned and walked towards them, Jefferson jumping up to follow him.

 

“You were over there yelling at the air,” Hamilton said as James neared them. “Come over here and yell at us, instead.”

 

“Hamilton, just as much of an ass as usual,” Jefferson grumbled. “No wonder he got shot.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Jefferson,” James said. They all turned and looked at him, and James crossed his arms defensively.

 

“So you're like me, then,” Hercules spoke up. “Great minds think alike.”

 

James scoffed, but he was grateful to Hercules for reacting calmly. He was self-conscious enough right now, and Hamilton wasn't helping.

 

“So, Hercules,” Lafayette spoke up. “You're the great medical mind. What do you think made James wake up?”

 

“Maybe he got so annoyed by listening to Alex he decided enough was enough,” John said, and Hamilton punched him on the arm.

 

“Hercules sometimes helps the doctors with their patients,” Hamilton explained. “What was the worst thing you ever saw, Herc?”

 

James slipped away from Hamilton and walked to the far end of the table, where Burr was watching the conversation, his face neutral. Burr glanced up at James, raising an eyebrow, and Jefferson sauntered up right behind Burr, giving James an encouraging smile. James  _ needed _ to know what that escaped train of thought had been.

 

“So, Burr,” James started carefully. Burr’s face scrunched with confusion, but he nodded anyway. James glanced over his shoulder to see Hercules staring intensely at him. “Uh, how's your relationship with Hamilton?”

 

“...Who?” Burr asked, a small smile forming across his lips.

 

“Alex,” James clarified. Right. Everyone was on a first name basis around here.

 

Burr shrugged, his expression remaining aloof. “Good, I suppose. I was the first person he met here, so we're close.”

 

“Okay,” James said. “So you're not going to shoot him?”

 

“Oh, shit!” Jefferson crowed. Hercules moved Lafayette off his lap and started towards them.

 

Burr gave James a strange look, a smile carefully plastered on his face. “I… no, I'm not going to shoot Alex, he's my friend. Why would you think that?”

 

_ It didn't stop you before,  _ James wanted to snap. Instead he whirled around and looked at Jefferson, who was nodding excitedly.

 

“Don't forget, come on, hold onto it,” Jefferson said.

 

Hold onto what? Burr and Hamilton - James could feel it slipping away, but he focused all he could on it. He was not letting this thought get away. His head began to pound, painfully, but he didn't let up, trying to make sense of the thought.

 

What did it  _ mean _ ?

 

Thomas had told James, long ago - Hamilton and Burr - “The damn fool threw away his shot-” A duel?

 

The memory left as quickly as it came, but James was left with one revelation. He didn't remember how, he didn't know why, but he knew one thing for certain.

 

Aaron Burr killed Alexander Hamilton.

 

“Okay,” James said. “Okay, that's cool. Bye.”

 

He swiftly turned and walked away, leaving Burr looking confused behind him. James shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head to try and clear the headache.

 

“Incoming,” Jefferson called.

 

James glanced up to see Hercules moving to intercept him, and James ducked his head and walked faster. Hercules grabbed his shoulder, stopping James in his tracks.

 

“James,” he started.

 

“What's your last name?” James blurted out. Hercules looked at him for a moment.

 

“No one remembers,” Jefferson said softly, a sad look in his eyes. “Not anymore.”

 

“I don't know,” Hercules said. “Listen-” he was interrupted by a doctor in a lab coat walking over to them, and his hand tightened a little on James’s shoulder.

 

“James,” he greeted. “It's good to see you awake. I'm Doctor Seabury.”

 

James’s stomach twisted at the name. He knew it from somewhere, but as per usual, he couldn't place it. He shook Seabury's hand, and Hercules backed up a fraction. Jefferson was being strangely quiet, staring at Seabury warily.

 

“Now that you've woken up,” Seabury said. “We wanted to review your psychological profile. If you'll come with me?”

 

James nodded, and Hercules squeezed James’s shoulder, then gave him a look of  _ we're not done here _ before walking away. James watched him go before turning and following Seabury, a pit of dread settling in his gut.

 

“Hey, babe,” Jefferson said, draping an arm over his shoulders, and James was surprised to realize he could actually feel it. James’s face turned red, and he quickly looked away from Thomas, who grinned. “Look, I  _ really _ don't like the shrinks, so I'm going to go be anywhere but here for a while.”

 

“What?” James hissed, quiet enough to avoid Seabury’s detection. “Thomas!”

 

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Don't tell them about me, okay? Or the memories!”

 

With that, he disappeared, leaving James alone with Seabury. Seabury led him to a comfortable-looking room, where James sat down in a chair across from Seabury’s desk.

 

“All right,” Seabury smiled. “Let's get started.”

 

He shuffled around in a notebook, then looked up at James expectantly. James shifted uncomfortably, deciding to lock his gaze on the nametag on the front of Seabury’s desk.

 

“How are you feeling?” Seabury asked.

 

“Fine, I suppose,” James said. “Just regular.”

 

“Can you state your full name for me?”

 

“James…” James hesitated. It was on the tip of his tongue, what came after James - started with an M? M-

 

“I don't remember,” James said softly. He wanted to cry. He couldn't remember his name, he couldn't remember anything about his life, he couldn't remember why he was here. James wished Thomas was with him.

 

“What about before waking up? Do you remember anything before your coma?” Seabury asked, writing something down on his paper.

 

“No. Nothing.”

 

The conversation (James thought it seemed more like an interrogation) continued for an hour before he was released, being asked questions about his memory and mental health before Seabury was satisfied.

 

“Alright, James, you're free to go,” Seabury said, and James wondered if that was entirely true. “If I may, don't heed what Alex and his friends say about us doctors. We have your best interests at heart.”

 

James nodded awkwardly, then headed out of the door and back into the living room. He pulled Hamilton aside a moment, Hamilton looking surprised.

 

“Alex,” James said. “What's your last name?”

 

Hamilton looked at James, and for a moment a fire flashed in his eyes, so furious that James was afraid it would burn him down. But the fire was gone as soon as it appeared, replaced by an innocent glaze.

 

“I don't want to talk about it,” Hamilton said. “But hey, how'd the shrink go? I fucking hate those guys.”

 

James narrowed his eyes at the sudden change of subject, but gave a noncommittal shrug. Hamilton nodded, turning back to John.

 

James noticed Thomas waving at him from the couch, his French t-shirt smudged with what looked like chocolate. James began to make his way to Thomas, but was grabbed by Hercules and ushered into the bathroom.

 

Hercules pushed him against the wall, holding his arms as he stared at James intensely. He looked over his shoulder before he spoke.

 

“You remember, don't you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny thing is, I used to not actually like Jeffermads that much and now I cry at night over it so there's that. Also, Hamilton is an insensitive asshole, like what the hell


	4. Outnumbered, Outplanned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is making some new revelations. A new, important figure enters the scene, and yet... who is he?
> 
> James just... can't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody. I had this chapter done so long ago but I got busy and then I forgot to post it. I'm so tired right now...

He had given himself away.

 

Panic raced through James and he pushed hard against Hercules. Hercules let go of him in surprise, and James bolted for the door.

 

“No-” Hercules shut the door as James started to pull it open, then pressed James against the wall, his face shoved into the tile.

 

“I can't go back, please,” James begged. “Please, don't tell them, I can't go back there.”

 

“Back where, James?” Hercules asked.

 

“I-” James hesitated. “I don't know.”

 

“Listen, I'm not going to turn you in,” Hercules said. “I'm on your side, okay? I want to help.”

 

“What?” James hissed. “You’re the doctor's assistant or whatever, you help them do things to people-”

 

“And what other way is better for learning their weaknesses?” Hercules replied. “I know they're hiding things. Like our memories.”

 

Hercules suddenly turned his face to the side, staring at something that wasn't there. He nodded, then scoffed quietly.

 

“I see a man who’s been dead for two hundred years,” James muttered. “But I know him. Like, I  _ know him  _ know him.”

 

“But when you try to focus on why-”

 

“It disappears,” James finished.

 

“Yeah,” Hercules said. “You knew Aaron’s last name. You asked him if he would shoot Alex.”

 

“Because he killed Alex,” they said at the same time.

 

“You remember,” James whispered, and Hercules released James. James turned around to face Hercules, looking at him with wide eyes. Hercules smiled sadly.

 

“You have no idea how relieved I am that someone else here remembers,” Hercules said. “It's been so lonely because none of them know anything.”

 

“I don't remember much,” James admitted. “Just names, mostly.”

 

“But you know something's wrong,” Hercules pointed out. “That's something. I'm getting to it, Gil,” Hercules suddenly snapped, glaring at the empty air. He turned back to James.

 

“What's your last name?”

 

James frowned. “What's yours?”

 

“Mulligan.”

 

James knew of Hercules Mulligan: he had been a spy for - someone important. James felt like he should know who that was, the man who made America what it was, the man who - who-

 

He couldn't remember.

 

“Your turn,” Hercules prompted. James looked at him, and he raised an eyebrow. “What's your last name?”

 

“I don't know,” James said.

 

“I do,” Hercules said. “Do you want me to tell you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It's-” Hercules kept speaking, but James couldn't hear him. There was static filling his ears, overwhelming his brain until he couldn't see anything but static.

 

He had somewhere to be right now.

 

“Come on, Jemmy, wake up.”

 

James’s eyes flew open to see Hercules kneeling above him, looking concerned. James lifted his head to find himself lying on the bathroom floor, Thomas in his purple suit sitting cross-legged next to him.

 

“Thomas?” James croaked.

 

Hercules frowned. “I'm not Thomas.”

 

“I'm not talking to you,” James said. “It's Thomas.”

 

“You see Thomas Jefferson?” Hercules asked.

 

“Well, he's not real,” James said, feeling awkward.

 

Hercules raised an eyebrow. “Is that what he told you?”

 

James glanced over to see Thomas glaring daggers into Hercules, but Hercules didn't notice, probably because he couldn't see him. Thomas sighed and turned to James, a strained smile on his face.

 

“What's he talking about?” James demanded.

 

“It's not important,” Thomas said.

 

“Bullshit.” James sat up, staring Thomas down.

 

Hercules was watching James with a small smile on his face, listening to the one side of the conversation he could hear. Thomas winced, looking apologetic.

 

“You won't believe me,” Thomas said.

 

“I have a man who’s been dead for two hundred years in my head,” James started. “I'm in a mental hospital with no memories, and I think my friends are Founding Fathers. Tell me what's going on.”

 

“Oh, I would, Jemmy,” Thomas assured him, and James narrowed his eyes. “But right now we have bigger things to deal with. The General’s back.”

 

“The General?” James asked, and Hercules perked up. “Who's that?”

 

“The General's back?” Hercules exclaimed, helping James to his feet. “Come on, you have to go meet him.” 

 

“Okay,” James said, and Hercules pulled him out of the bathroom, practically bouncing towards the living room.

 

Lafayette ran up to Hercules, a big smile on their face as they entwined their fingers with Hercules’. They grinned at James, a bright twinkle in their eye.

 

“Did you hear?” Lafayette said. “ _ Mon général _ is back!”

 

“Who is this guy?” James muttered under his breath.

 

“George Washington,” Thomas said. “We call him the General for obvious reasons. He's been in solitary for a while, ‘cause he's not exactly a model patient.”

 

_ Solitary?  _ James thought.  _ What is this, prison? _

 

“James!” Alex exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Glad you could join us. This is a historic moment for us all.”

 

“Alex,” John said, appearing on James’s other side. “Today, our friend James here joins us in our battle for glory and praise.”

 

“Whose praise?” James snorted. “Seabury’s?”

 

“Like Hell I need that rat’s favor,” Alex answered. “No, we fight for our honor!”

 

James knew it was a joke, but he couldn't help but feel a little uneasy at the mention of battles and fighting. Especially with John, like something had happened to him - at war? Had he been-

 

“Come on, Jemmy,” Thomas spoke up, meeting James’s eyes. “Don't let it go.”

 

With Alex and John leaning on his shoulders, James latched onto the thought. He pulled at it, trying to grab as much information as he could.

 

John Laurens, the man standing next to him, had been hurt somehow. He had been in battle, and he had-

 

He had been shot. And killed.

 

John Laurens died in a war, one James couldn't remember but he  _ knew,  _ in his core, that it had been game-changing.

 

James whirled around as the doors to the living room opened, revealing Seabury and a few other doctors. The moment they appeared, Lafayette and Hercules stepped apart, the latter shoving his hands into his pockets. John and Alex separated from James, and James felt a strange pang of disappointment.

 

James had never been good at making friends.

 

The doctors moved to the side, revealing a scruffy man, whose face was set in stone as he walked into the living room. Seabury said something to him as he passed, and Washington snapped something back before continuing on.

 

“The moment you've been waiting for,” Thomas announced, spreading his arms. “George Washington!”

 

James straightened his posture, his nerves running high as Washington approached them. Washington waited until the doctors closed the doors and left before greeting Alex quietly. Lafayette stepped back towards Hercules, resting their head on his shoulder.

 

James started as fingers entwined with his, and he glanced over to see Thomas smirking at him, squeezing his hand comfortingly. James blushed, looking away, and Thomas laughed lightly.

 

“Lafayette,” Washington said, and Lafayette nodded. “Sorry, but I need to speak to Thomas right now. Could you…?”

 

“Ah, I'm sorry,” they shrugged. “Thomas seems to be busy right now.”

 

James could have sworn Lafayette glanced at Thomas. He must have been mistaken, Lafayette must have been looking at James.

 

Right?

 

Washington turned to James, sizing him up silently. Washington stepped towards James, and James had to crane his neck upwards in order to look Washington in the eye. He silently cursed how short he was for not the first time in his life.

 

“Stay calm, Jemmy,” Thomas murmured.

 

Washington raised an eyebrow. “Who're you?”

 

“James, sir,” he stammered. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“He's the coma patient,” Alex spoke up, and Washington sniffed.

 

“When you get Thomas to talk to me, let me know,” Washington said to Lafayette, turning away from James. A weight settled in James’s heart, and Thomas growled something under his breath.

 

“Sir,” Alex protested. “James is a good man. We can trust him. He wants to help!”

 

“We need as many friends as we can get,” John added.

 

“He knows more than he lets on,” Hercules suddenly said.

 

“I like him,” Lafayette grinned. “He’s adorable.”

 

Washington stopped, slowly turning to Alex. “You willing to vouch for him?”

 

“I am,” Alex confirmed.

 

Washington looked at James, a hint of disdain in his face. “Fine.” he pushed past James, disappearing around a corner.

 

Alex gave James an apologetic look, running to catch up to Washington. Hercules sighed, exchanging a look with Lafayette. James froze, shock overtaking his brain.

 

That wasn't his Washington.

 

“What the hell was that?” James demanded, and Hercules scoffed in agreement.

 

Thomas grimaced, letting go of James’s hand. “I'm sorry. He's… different.”

 

“Yeah, no shit,” James replied, and Thomas raised his hands in surrender.

 

“Without his memories, this place has changed him,” Thomas said. “He's still Washington, just not.”

 

James glared at Thomas, and Lafayette placed their hand on James’s shoulder.

 

“Come on,” they said. “We'd better get you up to speed.”

 

“What?” James asked.

 

“The Revolution,” Lafayette whispered conspiratorially. “We're going to fuck this place up.”

 

“They can't keep us here forever,” Thomas added.

 

“We need to find out what they aren't telling us,” Hercules said, meeting James’s eye. “What we don't know.”

 

James frowned. It was obvious Washington was the leader, but James wasn't sure he wanted to be part of a scheme to break out of a mental hospital. Washington was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be regal - no, not regal, that was very much the wrong word - presidential. Because he was-

 

James hissed as his head pounded painfully, and he dropped his head into his hands. He needed to remember, but there was a wall blocking everything. He tried to focus on it, but spikes of pain shot through his head, and he groaned.

 

“James?” Lafayette asked, but it was muffled, like they were speaking underwater.

 

“Oh, God, James, no,” Thomas said suddenly, sounding panicked.

 

Static was creeping into the edges of his vision, and James stumbled back, gasping in pain.

 

“James-” Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. James stared up at him, at -

 

Who was he?

 

The man gripped his shoulders, his face blurry in James’s vision, when lips pressed against his. They were soft and gentle, and James froze, tasting the lips of someone else on his own.

 

It was like the floodgates had opened, because suddenly, James remembered.

 

Everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author giveth... and the author taketh away. Please comment and leave kudos! I always appreciate constructive criticism as well as any comments. Thanks!


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